


Bloom

by belderiver



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Study, Flowers, Gen, Pre-Canon, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belderiver/pseuds/belderiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's awe and wonder to be found in the fallen leviathan, and Jakku is scarce in both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloom

There are days when the world looks different; days when Rey's pack is full before her canteen is empty, when she can afford the luxury of wandering. 

After hours spent carefully studying the chaos of a half-scavenged circuit board, she steps onto the sand and lets the the vast stillness of the Star Destroyer wash over her. Beams of broken light filter through the cracked ribs of the starship, and she moves through them as slow and reverant as if they were shining through cathedral glass. She listens to every creak and shudder echo through the broken hull as it's bones sink into the sand. There's awe and wonder to be found in the fallen leviathan, and Jakku is scarce in both. 

She removes her helmet to feel the dying sun on her skin, closes her eyes, and breathes deep. There's a history here that she spent a childhood imagining herself a part in. An ace pilot. A roguish sharpshooter. Sometimes, when she was angry, a fearsome (yet noble) general. The ghosts of rebels and imperials alike swirl and eddy around her. She knows them by name, or at least by the names she's found scratched into helmets and blasters and secret corridors, and she's dreamed them all stories. Though she's chosen favourites among the heroes and villains, she has never seen another soul here. Her own private graveyard.

But there was still life.

Rey spotted it from a distance, a blot of red against the dull sand, bent toward a shaft of light. She approached with her head tilted and her brow furrowed. The lone flower had found shelter here from the scorching wastes. She nudged it with the toe of her boot. It was a grubby, twisted little thing, struggling out of the sand. Somehow, it was halfway to blossom anyway. 

Rey felt a pang of something she opted not to dwell on.

The warm sand scraped under her nails and against her knees as she dug the little flower out of its home. She scooped it up in both hands, lowered it gently into her upended helmet, and stared at it a few moments longer. Perhaps taking it back with her was foolish. She folded her scarf over the top of the helmet and stood, tucking it carefully into the crook of her arm.

She had already decided; she was being no more foolish than a flower trying to bloom in the desert. Survivors ought to stick together, anyway.


End file.
